An Adrienette Fanfic: Masquerade
by lilmelchernping
Summary: One day, Chloe receives an invitation to attend the Royal Ball at the Agreste Palace, leaving Marinette in frustration and jealous at her housemistress. On the way home, she receives a pair of red earrings from an elderly man and unveils a fairy-like creature named Tikki. Tikki says Marinette is destined to save the country... but how and from what?
1. Chapter 1

"Marinette!"

"Yes?"

Chloe Bourgeois furiously flapped her fan, frowning. The windows were wide open, trying to welcome the slightest whisper of wind. The sun shone in streaks through the balcony into her bedroom, casting light on the rolls of rayon and cotton sitting, standing against the walls and on the floors of her bedroom.

"Hurry it up! I haven't all day to wait."

"Yes, ma'am."

Standing in front of the blonde lounging on her chasse lounge, was Marinette pinning a motley of fabrics to a mannequin. A sheen of sweat shimmered on her forehead in the shine of the sun.

"How, is this, ma'am?" Marinette asked, half-sighing.

"Hmm…" Chloe jutted her bottom lip out, squinting. But in less than a second, she said, "No. It's terrible. I'll look fat in that dress!"

She threw her fan across the room, frustrated. "Ughhh!"

She rested her forehead on her fist, and sighed.

"If you can't clean my house, neither can you even make me a _decent_ dress to wear," she groaned through gritted teeth, "you are the worst housemaid _and_ seamstress in the country!"

Marinette's eyes stared into the ground. It felt as if her eyes were going to roll out of their sockets.

 _Well, it's not like you have any taste… your servants always pick what you wear…_

"Talk about _dreams,_ Marinette. Talk about being the _best_ seamstress in the kingdom," Chloe went on relentlessly. "Talk about designing the dresses of the future queen and princesses to come."

Marinette's chest tightened, as if the screws sealing her anger were trying to suppress her growing anger.

"Tsk, tsk," tutted Chloe, and with a 'bam!', she knocked the mannequin to the ground.

"Clean."

Chloe chassed out the room, giggling to herself.

 _What a spoilt brat._

Marinette groaned and got to work, picking up the pins and needles.

 _Why is she so mean…_

 _The mayor's a nice man, and he's got this… nasty girl for a daughter…_

She heard a chorus of cackles from downstairs.

 _Sabrina's come over. More work to do…_

Once she had finished, she huddled the rolls in her arms and steadily stepped down the stairs. She would return for the threads and the needles later.

Her eyes caught a glimpse of Chloe and Sabrina having tea in the living room. It smelled of jasmine. They were laughing away at something Chloe said, probably about Marinette's _dumb_ dresses and dreams. Marinette rolled her eyes and made her way to the basement, where all the cleaning supplies were.

It was evening. The sun had begun to set; shades of orange, yellow, violet and purple layered beneath and on top of each other like a layered cake. Marinette walked in the shadows of the shops cast by the dim, eerie flames of the gaslights. Her hands held her sooty skirts, avoiding catching as much as possible the dust being kicked up from boots on the streets and the clopping of horses down the road.

The air was musty, dusty, and dirty with smoke from the chimneys. The folk were setting their hearths aflame, the wives and daughters preparing either stew or soup for dinner. Marinette tried not to breathe as much as possible as she hurried her way home to her father's bakery, remembering her father's fresh bread and her mother's amazing mushroom soup.

"Mama! Papa! I'm home!" she shouted as she slipped into the safety of the cozy warm bakery from the tide of the crowd. She walked to the back of the shop, through the baskets of buns and trays of pastries. Behind, was a kitchen, where the warmth wafted from. There, she saw her father removing a loaf from the oven.

"Papa!"

"Marinette!" She walked into her father's half-embrace as he slid the loaf on a rack to cool. "How was your day?"

"It was good," answered Marinette, remembering Chloe's little outburst. "Where's Mama?"

"Mama is delivering some loaves to the mayor's, honey." Her father wiped the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. "Dinner will be ready soon. Go wash up."

"Okay." Marinette was going up the stairs, built on one side of the kitchen. Beneath the staircase were shelves storing flour, sugar and jars of spices and herbs.

In the building of the bakery, the first floor was the shop. The second floor was where most of the living quarters were: a living room, a small bathroom and her parents' bedroom. The third floor was Marinette's bedroom; filled with fabrics, mannequins and drawings. Her bedroom was connected to a small balcony upstairs, where rarely any plants grew, save for the little weeds waving during the winds – Marinette didn't think any flowers would grow in the pollution of Paris.

Marinette stripped off her skirts, kicked off her knickers and began to start the shower. Warm water was a luxury for the moderate, middle-class Parisians. Unfortunately for Marinette, she shivered as the shower spilled down her back. She began to daydream again…

She was living in the quarters of the castle, with the other famous seamstresses. Everyday, she would be in demand to make measurements and modifications to the designs of the dresses, drawn specially for the ladies of the court and castle. She would sew the most stunning of dresses for the princesses and suits for the princes, the pride of every ball in France!

Then, her family would work in the castle as the royal cooks, probably, if they wanted to move from their life in the cramped city.

And, oh, Prince Adrien Agreste… That boy, the prince, is a popular one among the Parisian, no, of all the girls in France!

 _Aah…_

"Marinette?"

Marinette snapped out of her daydream. "Marinette?" her mother's voice called. "Marinette?"

"Mama?!"

"Marinette," her mother's voice called. "Dinner is ready!"

How long had she been daydreaming? Her fingertips were wet and wrinkled. She wrapped a towel around and ran up the stairs to her bedroom.

"Yeah, Mama! Five minutes!"


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, as the sun peeked from its covers of the house-roof horizon, Marinette left for Mayor Bourgeois's house; another day housecleaning.

She wasn't sure, or didn't remember, why she chose to be the Bourgeois house's housemaid. She could've been working as an apprentice at a small tailor shop instead of slaving away sweeping the sides of staircases in the Bourgeois home. Maybe because if she left, her family would have less income to pay the taxes or to run the bakery? Her family business isn't poor, but it's not very popular either. Maybe it's because she was paid, if not handsomely, much higher than what she would get if she were an apprentice at a tailor's, especially if the owner was stingy.

A small basket of a bun and a piece of cheese hung from the crook of her elbow, covered with a cloth. This was her breakfast everyday, before she began work, till the dusk when it was dinnertime.

The street was clear, no crowds. It was peaceful, a single sparrow chirping in the spring air, the air still and silent; just the sound of her boots gently thumping against the cobblestone like a soft baby heartbeat.

Marinette drank in the morning, its peacefulness soothing like the expensive jasmine tea in the Bourgeois home.

 _Today_ , she thought, _I'll try harder. Maybe my designs really weren't good enough_.

A melody lightly leaped from her lips, as she made the long walk to the Bourgeois home.

"Marinette! Not there!" Chloe screamed as Marinette unpinned a button from the fabric.

Instead of using her designs for Chloe's dress, she decided to ask Chloe how she wanted her dress, which was another disaster. Chloe kept changing her mind. Things kept changing places, they were getting nowhere with the design.

 _Oh, please, do it yourself, Chloe…_

"Daddy should've gotten me a real tailor! Not some cheap housemaid like you to do my dresses!" Chloe pouted, and flipped her fan shut with a "Hmph!"

 _Well, you don't really deserve to own the best dresses in all of Paris with that attitude…_

Marinette heaved a heavy sigh, and set down the button. The hem of the fabric where the button was pinned on fell to the floor. How could this day get anymore… exhausting?!

"Chloe?"

A tall, plumpish man stood in the doorway of Chloe's bedroom – the Mayor Bourgeois.

"Daddy!" Chloe squealed and ran into her father's arms. "Daddy!"

"Yes, my dear, I heard someone screaming. Is something the- "

"Get me a real tailor, daddy! She doesn't do the dresses any good," she said accusingly, pointing a finger at Marinette's chest. The mayor seemed to be slightly thrown off, maybe a little aghast.

 _Oh, dear…_

Mayor Bourgeois looked at Marinette, smiling pitifully. Marinette understood, he seemed to be a bit burdened by his daughter's demands.

"Marinette, why don't you help the maids clean the kitchen?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, ma'am. An honor working with you."

"Hmph."

"Chloe." Mayor Bourgeois looked at his daughter. She rolled his eyes.

Marinette made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Two maids were scrubbing the floors. Marinette tried not to trip over them, making her way outside. There was a bucket of water just outside the kitchen, on the stone steps that lead to the backyard. She took a towel from a rack nearby and plunged it into the murky water. She squeezed the towel tight, till not one drop dripped. She began to scrub the floor with the other two maids.

"Have you heard?"

Marinette thought, _Gossip_. Till one of the maids started poking her.

"Have you heard, Marinette?"

"Huh? Oh, me?"

"The Prince will be inviting all the ladies and lads of France to his ball two days later."

The Prince holding a ball? This sounded interesting.

"I heard one of the ladies to be invited will be Mademoiselle Chloe Bourgeois," said the other maid, rubbing her right hand. Marinette must've looked incredulous because the other maid added, "At least that's what I've heard."

Chloe? Ball?

 _Hah, not a chance._

But it could be, right? After all, she was a mayor's daughter.

 _She couldn't even be polite, say "A cup of tea, please?" or even a "Thank you" to her father. How would she act around the aristocracies?_

"Oh, Chloe," sighed the first maid. "She's barely any manners. How can she be the lady of the court?"

 _Lady of the court?_

"Wait," Marinette interrupted, "lady of the court?"

"The prince will choose his princess at the ball," continued the maid. "His future queen, it means." She shook her head. "Unbelievable if Chloe gets picked."

Marinette could not believe her ears.

 _Oh, lord._

The maid rubbing her hand resumed scrubbing. Till her name was called.

"Lucille! Get the door! The bell's been ringing off its post for _ages_!" screamed Chloe. "I need my morning tea too! Lucille!"

Lucille sighed, and walked out the kitchen without another word but a "Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, dear…" The remaining maid shook her head and sighed.

Just as Marinette was about to get up from the floor, she heard the door slam and shrieks coming from the parlor. The maid's head perked up and went to see what the noise was about from outside the kitchen. She nodded her head at Marinette, asking her to come see.

 _It must be the invitation…_

Marinette was right. She saw Chloe clutching a light golden yellow letter in her hands.

"Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"

Chloe was hopping, bursting with excitement. Marinette and the maid could only watch, brimming with envy.

"Daddy! Daddy! I'm invited! Daddy!" She began to run to her father's study.

Marinette saw Lucille standing by the door, a bit red in the face.

"Lucille?" the maid asked, "Is everything alright?"

Lucille covered her face in her hands. "I'm just a bit… embarrassed. Milla, did you see how she slammed the door in the poor courier's face? It must've hit his nose."

Milla shook her head and wrapped her hand around Lucille. "Let's just return to our chores. We've had enough drama for one day. You too, Marinette, let's go."

But Marinette could not help but star after Chloe bouncing down the hallway.

 _So, it really is true…_

Marinette could not help but feel the envy and heaviness sinking her heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Marinette was walking home from her work at the Bourgeois house. What a day happened…

 _She actually got invited…_

Marinette couldn't help but feel angry. Her chest tightened, tense, she felt like she wanted to punch something into pieces.

 _Calm down. She got invited only because she was the daughter of a mayor. Every mayor's daughter and son get invited…_

Marinette tried to swallow down the tension. It helped, but not much. Maybe dinner will calm her down.

The sun was setting back into its covers of the horizon. She walked by the same shop lots, on the same sidewalk, seeing the same things.

 _Don't you just get bored with the same things everyday…?_

She balled her hands into fists, trying to hold herself together in one piece so that she could break down at home.

Her parents had already fallen fast asleep. She was awake in bed, thinking about Chloe and the invitation.

 _Just let it go, will you?_

No, she couldn't. She was just jealous.

 _Come on, Marinette. If you were the mayor's daughter, you would've been invited._

Her eyes just stared at the cracks in the ceiling. Light shone from a single fairly large window facing the rusty-tiled roof of a neighboring shop lot. She wanted to sleep, but she just couldn't. Her train of thought was chugging around her mind.

 _But you're just the daughter of a baker. A middle-class family._

She balled her fists beneath her blanket.

 _It's not their fault they're not rich or noble. Let it go, Marinette…_

She gritted her teeth. She felt her heart expanding with heated anger.

 _Marinette, let it go!_

"Aargh!"

She flipped over and slammed her fists into her pillow. Then , she did it again, over and over again.

"Why? Why Chloe Bourgeois of all people?! Aargh!"

Tears began to stream down her face, twinkling in the dim white light from the window.

"Why Chloe?! Anyone – agh! – can see that – ugh! – she doesn't deserve it!"

Her fists landed into her pillow and she smacked her face into it, between her fists. She screamed into her pillow, frustration freed and till no more anger anchored her heart.

 _Oh, Lord, Marinette… don't cry…_

She lifted her head a little from her pillow. Splotches of tears were spattered across where her face had been. Her pillow got saggy from her fists. Her eyes must be a mess from all the crying – her mother will surely ask her what happened.

"Why… why are you such a mess?" she whimpered; her throat felt tight and her voice came out like a weak wheeze.

She dropped her head into her pillow and fell asleep.

She was going to wake up extra early tomorrow and leave before her mother wakes up.

The sun shone in white radiant rays through the glass. It felt so good. She felt as if her body had been rejuvenated and repaired back to its old self before she started working early mornings in the Bourgeois home. She stretched her arms and rubbed her eyes. She blinked her eyes and drank in the brightness of her bedroom.

"Ahh…" she sighed.

"Marinette?"

 _Mama… mama… MAMA?!_

"What… oh, shoot!"

Before her mother could come in to wake her up, Marinette flung herself off the bed and swung the door open.

"I'm LATE!"

"Marinette!" Her mother was appalled. "Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Yes, Mama!" Marinette shouted from the shower. "I'll be out in no time!"

She hastily began to scrub soap all over her body, missing a spot here and there. She hurriedly washed off the suds with water before wrapping a towel around herself. She smelled the baking fragrance of bread and herbs from downstairs. Her father had started working – how late was she to work?

"But, Marinette," her mother began, "you don't have to work today."

Marinette's swollen eyes snapped open. "Wha… what?"

"Mayor Bourgeois called that you were late. He said you needed a break and thanks you for working so hard for Chloe. You'll be on leave today." Her mother smiled.

"Oh," said a flustered Marinette, fidgeting with the hem of her towel. "Well…"

 _Thank you for working so hard for Chloe…_

"You can visit your friend Alia today," her mother said, suggestively. "You haven't been with your friends, ever since you started working at the Bourgeois."

"Really?"

Her mother nodded. "I'll get you some cookies for you to share with your friends."

"Thanks, Mama!" She wrapped her arms around her mother in her towel. "Thank you."

It's been a long time since Marinette got to wear normal dresses. Usually, she'd wear a plain brown dress, a plain brown apron, and a plain dun coat to work – plain, plain, plain. It was quite a contrast to what Chloe wore – satins, frills, skirts with embroidered hems and sleeves laced with the lace of the finest threads that Marinette could never afford for her designs. Today she wore a simple grey dress, a few frills hemming the edges of her skirts and a black shawl. She wore her raven hair down into two pony tails, tied with red ribbon.

Alia's was a few blocks away from Marinette's. Her house was small; it was a three-storey apartment split into three units. They lived in the middle unit. The landlord lived on the ground floor while an old man lived upstairs above Alia's family.

Marinette wasn't allowed through the front door, because it was the landlord's house, unless she brought his favorite – spinach quiche from her father's bakery. Otherwise, she would have to use the fire escape, a rusty, green metal staircase scaling one side of the building. She clambered up, wary of the rusty steps and the handle her hand held – they looked as if they could break any time. She reached Alia's door. It was a wooden door, weary at the hinges and its blue paint faded to grey. She knocked on the door, waiting for a reply.

"Yes, hello?" The door opened, revealing a tan girl in a pink dress. "Marinette?" Her face lit up with a little smile.

"Alia!"

"Marinette!"

They hugged each other tightly, as if they would never let go.

"Alia, I miss you so much!"

"Where, my god, have you been, Marinette! So much has happened!" Alia squealed.

Marinette couldn't help but beam till her cheeks hurt. "Well, that coming from an apprentice journalist…"

Alia giggled. "Come on in! We have to talk."

Alia held the door open for Marinette as she stepped inside. It was a small space. Marinette saw the dishes in the sink, a dead-looking color from all the stains stuck on the surface. She grimaced a little at the grim sight of the home. Everything look so faded since the last time she had been here. The upholstery looked ugly and way under by Chloe's standards, what she would call as "hell". The wallpaper peeled downwards, pale from the sun and patchy from whatever stains might've been splattered upon the walls. The table, which marked her father's study in the corner, was probably the only thing functioning, besides the typewriter.

"Alia…" Marinettte was speechless, but she managed to squeeze a few words out from her throat tight with surprise. "What… happened?"

Alia averted her eyes to the floor, creaking a little beneath her weight.

"I…" she started, "the taxes rose."

"Oh, Alia…"

"My dad's articles aren't going so well, they're not getting eaten up as they used to be…" Marinette could see the girl's eyes getting glassy.

"Come on, Alia," Marinette tried to move Alia's mind somewhere else. "I brought cookies."

"I know," Alia half-sniffed. "They smell so good."

"Chloe got invited to Prince Adrien's ball?!" Alia sat up, perked like cat about to prance.

"I know," sighed Marinette, sighing for the hundredth time throughout the conversation. Everything had not been going well lately for the both of them. Alia's father's articles weren't being bought by the readers lately and the taxes had risen, again. They had been working so much lately they hadn't time to maintain the home. Alia was working under the wing of the gazette her father was working for.

"This is… insane!" she shrieked. "Crazy!"

She stood up, pacing up and down the space of the little living room. "Why would, of all people, Prince Adrien invite _Chloe_?"

Everybody in Paris adored Chloe, as the kind and cordial Mayor Bourgeois was popular. But some people are annoyed with Chloe getting into her antics and outbursts, like Alia and Marinette. They knew Chloe better than most. Marinette was the Bourgeois home housemaid and Alia, well, she's got the gist and gossip from her gals from the higher classes, so-called 'secret sources'. Apparently, she hadn't gotten the word about Chloe's invitation yet.

"This, is juicy news!" exclaimed Alia.

"Alia! Shh!" Marinette flew a finger to her lips.

"Relax," lulled Alia. "I didn't say I was going to tell anyone. You're my best friend Marinette."


End file.
